The most cruel, bitter, merciless, and most personal book by the writer. A book in which he, with merciless and cutting irony and unhidden hatred, passes judgment on Bolshevism and on Soviet power—power that he was unfortunate enough to observe first in Moscow and then in Odesa, right up to his emigration.
Not a single kind word does the great Russian writer find for the Revolution—the bloody, terrifying, loathsome, self-destructive chaos that swept through Russia in 1917.